


The Veiled Dove

by LittleNorthernMockingbird



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Regency, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-04-09
Updated: 2014-04-11
Packaged: 2018-01-18 18:10:37
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,766
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1437769
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LittleNorthernMockingbird/pseuds/LittleNorthernMockingbird
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Regency AU - Eddard Stark has been found dead in compromising circumstances. The Stark family is in ruins, with little money, and fewer connections it is the eldest daughter who must be shipped off to a wealthy aunt in order to keep Winterfell Hollow in Stark hands. </p><p>Mrs. Lysa Arryn takes Sansa in with promises of introducing her in Society, but Sansa soon realizes Aunt Lysa may not be as kindly as she had hoped. </p><p>A potential new neighbour shows up to the local dance and catches the attention of Sansa's widowed aunt. Mr. Petyr Baelish is a man of new wealth 'built with his own two hands.' Sansa is wary of the guileful gentleman, even if only for her aunt's sake. But it isn't too long before Sansa begins seeing a lot more of the mysterious Mr. Baelish. And much to her dismay, it seems he may not just have eyes for Mrs. Arryn, but for her beautiful young niece as well.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Introduction

 

* * *

 

 

"It was a lovely service, indeed.”

 

The young woman nodded absently at her friend barely registering the words. Sansa Stark stared out across the well-manicured lawn of the churchyard. Nothing seemed real now.

 

“Sansa?” Jeyne Poole touched her red-haired companion on the elbow lightly, drawing a blank gaze in her direction.

 

Sansa was struggling come up with a suitable response when she saw her mother, and eldest brother Robb exiting the church arm in arm. Thankful for the distraction she bid Jeyne a hasty goodbye and made her way to her family.

 

Catelyn Stark was pale, her eyes red-rimmed and puffy. Robb, to his credit was looking stoic as he held the majority of his mother’s weight. ‘ _He will have to be the strong one now_ ,’ thought Sansa solemnly as she moved to take Mrs. Stark’s other side.

 

“Please proceed to the cemetery,” The voice of the vicar sounded over the small crowd of mourners loitering outside the church hall; waiting to pay their respects. A shiver prickled over Sansa’s spine at the word: _Cemetery, he will stay in the cemetery now._

Her younger siblings were being ushered by some kindly neighbours as they all made their slow decent upon the little plot of land. Her father was to lay to rest in this quiet part of the churchyard. They had chosen it for the beautiful old tree that stood guarding spot. It was an old white birch, taller than any around it and visible for miles. It reminded her of her father, as tall, strong and sturdy as the white-barked tree he would lay beneath.

 

_But he is not strong anymore. He’s dead._

 

That sickening feeling of loss crept under her skin as the word ‘dead’ circled her mind over and over and over again.

 

“Eddard Stark was a man of great moral strength,” the vicar began, voice booming too loudly over the hushed landscape. Sansa tuned out the false-sounding words, instead focusing on the dirt pile that stood out again the beautifully manicured lawn.

 

 _Yes, Father was a good man._ But his death was a black stain on the family that made her heart ache in her chest.

 

No one really knew what had happened that night except that Eddard Stark had been found dead in a room at a brothel in town. Word had spread quickly through the county, whispers twisting wickedly as they went.

 

It didn’t matter anymore, Sansa reminded herself bitterly. All that mattered was the family’s future, and Lord only knew what was in store for the Starks.

 

“Let us remember Eddard as a good, kind man, and may he rest in peace. Amen.”

 

Unable to control herself, Catelyn let out a wracking sob and swayed on her feet. Luckily Robb had her by the waist and pulled her into his chest.

 

He stood silently and let her tears soak his Sunday best.

 

                                             ~~~

 

The walk back to Winterfell Hollow was a somber procession. Mrs. Stark led the way flanked by Robb and Mr. Rodrik Cassel, a local bailiff and long time friend to the Starks. Following close behind were, Bran, Arya and little Rickon who stumbled more than walked along the pebbled trail.

 

“Arya, his hand,” Sansa called from the back of the set, nodding toward the wobbly-legged boy. Arya, for her part, gave a half-hearted sneer then grabbed at Rickon’s chubby hand, yanking him alongside her.

 

The sight of the innocent child made fresh tears prickle at Sansa’s eyes, but she would not cry. Rickon was a babe, but Sansa was the eldest girl and she needed to be strong for the young ones. Her mother had been despondent and sometimes cruel in her furious heartbreak. No one could speak to her, not even Nan was able to calm her sorrow.

 

When they reached the gate to the lane Mrs. Stark let out an audible moan that wrenched at Sansa’s heart.

 

“Come, Mother,” Robb murmured, “We must go on.” The strain in his voice told Sansa that his words were more for himself than for their mother.

 

“Mama!” Shrieked Rickon pulling out of Arya grasp. The boy rushed to his mother’s leg, little hands tangled in her skirts. And it was like the boy was a cockerel’s crow, Mrs. Stark turned to her children, red-faced but there was a resoluteness in her stare that eased the harsh grip upon Sansa’s heart.

 

“Come, children,” and framed by her youngest and oldest sons, Mrs. Stark started the trek toward Winterfell Hollow.  

 

 


	2. Some Mournful News

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A huge THANKS to all those who read and/or left kudos on my intro chapter. This is my first foray into fan fiction, so believe me when I say it means a lot! These first few chapters are a bit slow, but I hope you can forgive my wordiness. I will try to update the story as often as possible and I really hope you guys enjoy! THANKS!!!
> 
> -LittleNorthernMockingbird

 

* * *

 

 

The air in the house was chilled as the party took their reprieve in the parlour. The maid, Gilly, had been let go, so there had been no one to set a fire in the hearth.

 

Sansa went toward the kindling, but felt a gentle hand on her arm. Mr. Cassel gave her a small, sad smile and led her to the window seat she had loved so much as a child.

 

At once, a vivid memory of her father chasing the younger children around the garden flashed before her. _His sandy hair that curled a little too long at his neck, his strong arms sweeping a giggling Arya off her feet._ The suddenness of the image hit like a great crushing blow, causing Sansa to sink forcefully onto the bench.

 

A muffled cough came from the doorway. Mr. Stark’s young valet, Jon Snow, was stood just inside, hovering stiffly, his clothes almost as muddy as his boots. No one had been able to dismiss Jon as he was of an age with Robb and the two had been all but raised together.

 

Jon was a local lad whose father was a drunkard who had left his son’s poorly mother when Jon was still at the breast. Mr. Stark had visited the woman and her squalling little babe, a babe not much older than his own newborn son, and had vowed to care for the infant as long as he lived. Jon’s mother took ill after a fiercely cold winter leaving behind her 6-year-old son who was brought to live at Winterfell Hollow.

 

Mrs. Stark had never felt kindly toward the boy. In short she was jealous. She felt that her husband took his responsibility to care for this _unwed_ woman too far. She resented that this black-hair boy was given time with her husband that should have been spent with _her_ children. But out of respect for her husband, Jon Snow remained at Winterfell Hollow. He trained as a stable boy, but when he came of age, Mr. Stark saw fit to promote his protégée to his own personal valet.

 

Sansa looked at Jon with sadness and pity; _a twice-orphaned boy._

 

“Perhaps some tea, Ma’am?” Jon’s voice was tight with suppressed grief. Mrs. Stark gave him a cold-eyed glance, then looked back to Rickon, stroking his strawberry-blond hair.

 

“I’ll help, Jon.” Robb offered, ushering his friend back through the door to the kitchen.

 

Sansa felt a chill, though the fire had caught and was blazing greedily in the hearth by now. She pulled her shawl tighter about her slim shoulders. An unsettling hush had descended upon them room as eyes hesitated to meet and thoughts dwelled on darker things.

 

“My dear Mrs. Stark,” Mr. Cassel rose from his place on the settee, sensing, Sansa thought, it was time he let the Stark family grieve in private. Catelyn Stark looked up and took Mr. Cassel’s proffered hand with uncommon gratitude, letting the slightest hint of a smile grace her thin lips. “I knew him well. We mustn’t believe all that we hear. Eddard was a _good_ man.” his words were whispered with the conviction of a preacher. Mrs. Stark, her eyes wet once more, was able only to muster a silent nod in recognition.

 

Moments later, the room was still. Not even the young ones dared to break the delicate balance of calm that had served to keep their mother composed.

 

“Tea, anyone?” Robb burst through the door carrying a tray with tea and biscuits. The sound pulled Sansa back to the present. Her memories flitting away like startled butterflies.

 

“Ah, Mr. Cassel’s gone,” he remarked setting down the tray next to his mother. His demeanor changed in an instant and the sober intonation of his voice was worrisome.

 

“Bran, Arya. Take Rickon upstairs.” Sansa could hear their father’s commanding words hidden by Robb’s youthful tongue.

 

“But what about tea?” Bran whined, giving Arya a look to do the same.

 

“We’re hungry, Robb!” Arya pouted, looking almost a demon in her mourning clothes.

 

Robb guided the three children to the door. “I will send Jon up with your supper, now go!”

 

The scene was half-resembled a normal day in the Stark household. But the look Robb gave Sansa as he turned back to her reminded her of the dreadful day and all that it meant for their family.

 

Robb looked to Sansa sitting primly in her window seat, and then to his mother on the sofa when he began pacing the area between. This made Sansa’s heart pound. What could cause such a turn in her brother’s state.

 

“Robb, sit.” Mrs. Stark stopped her son’s frenetic movement and then she looked to her eldest daughter.

 

“Sansa, my lovely girl,” her voice was wavering even now. “Come sit by me.” Sansa did as she was bid, taking the place next to her mother.

 

“What is it?” She heard herself say, words spoken as of their own volition.

Catelyn Stark looked down to her lap, her hands compulsively smoothing and readjusting the skirts of her mourning weeds. Sansa looked to Robb, whose eyes held something she could not decipher.

 

 “We’ve received a letter, Sansa.” He proceeded to produce a piece of parchment from his vest pocket. An unnerving wariness washed over her as he opened the letter. She could just about make out the name scrawled on the front.

 

“Dearest Sister,” He read, and at once she knew. Sansa recoiled as if she had been burned. She looked to her mother with tears blurring her vision. Mrs. Stark stared helplessly at her daughter, cheeks tear-stained anew. Sansa stood, wanting at once to flee and scream and run, but Robb caught her in his grasp, hugging her to him with all his strength. She fought voraciously for a while, but soon collapsed in to a heap on the floor, Robb still holding her tight.

 

As her vision cleared, the tears drying on her face, Sansa looked over to the disregarded envelope that had fallen to the floor by her side. On the outside, in overtly curling letters read the name: _Mrs. Lysa Arryn_.

 

 

 


End file.
